


No Hell Below Us

by TheTwistedWillow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - The French Mistake, Bizarro World, College Student Sam, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, Explicit Language, F/M, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Forced Retirement, Hunter Retirement, M/M, Post-Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, Retired Hunter Dean Winchester, Retired Hunter Sam Winchester, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwistedWillow/pseuds/TheTwistedWillow
Summary: Sam and Dean have found themselves back in Bizarro World where their doppelgangers are television stars on a show called Supernatural. In this world without magic, or the supernatural, the brothers are as good as stuck. They are quickly forced into retiring from The Family Business, unless someone on the other side can open the rift leading back home.It is awhile before Cas arrives, and at a great cost. But will the news he brings be what the Winchesters want? For one brother it will be, but for the other it won't.





	No Hell Below Us

**Author's Note:**

> This story is undergoing revision. I originally posted it in Mar 2017.  
> It is a SLOW build story about Dean and Cas, told from Dean's POV.  
> This story is set after Dean gets rid of the Mark of Cain but the Darkness was never unleashed, Mary never came back, no BMOL.

“Something has been fucked up for at least three days now, Sam. _Three_ ,” Dean says emphatically. He lowers himself behind the wheel of the Impala and tosses his EMF detector into the backseat. His jaw is set, eyes hard. “We haven’t heard from Cas. We haven’t been able to find anything! And now this."

Sam holds up a hand in a placating manner from the passenger seat, “I know. Getting worked up won’t change anything, though. Let’s think this through.”

“Okay, well all I can think is that maybe it’s a friggin’ Djinn. Maybe this ain’t real,” Dean says, sweeping his arm in front of him to indicate the world that lay outside the windshield. They've just arrived to the bunker, or at least where it should be, except it isn't here. They're only met with clusters of trees.  
  
“Yeah, maybe. But how can we test that out? What if it isn’t a Djinn and we start acting like a bunch of lunatics and get locked away? Or kill ourselves and really die? Dean, I'm not seeing anyone trying to convince us to stay like a Djinn would do. I don't even know what 'wish' they would be trying to grant here."

“It's just freaky," Dean says, slapping a hand on the steering wheel before rubbing it absently as if to tell Baby sorry. "Bunker is gone, the news is normal crap with nothing out of the ordinary, our phones and credit cards don't work. This has to be some Djinn or angel mojo.”  
  
At the thought of angels, Dean remembers that he had seen something unusual and perks up in his seat. As they had driven down a dusty and lonely Arizona highway to that very case, a shimmery mirage danced before the speeding Impala. The air was so hot that it wiggled back-and-forth toward the sky in an almost hypnotic dance. But there was a tinge of blue around it, very reminiscent of the portal Dean escaped through from Purgatory.  
  
Dean had blamed the desert heat and tired eyes for seeing things because how the fuck would a Purgatory portal be out in the open where anyone could fall through it? But now that he's rethinking it, nothing significant happened before that point but a whole lotta strange happened after they passed through. It's just gotta be the moment they entered... wherever they are.   
  
Everything had been fine a few days ago when they were at the bunker and Sam had found a skinwalker case. But somewhere between then and the Arizona morgue they traveled to, everything had changed. They had gotten to the morgue only to find that the body they were looking for wasn't there. According to the mortician, it had never been there because the victim apparently didn’t even exist.

After being tossed out of the hospital, and full to the brim with confusion and suspicion that the mortician was lying, they hopped into the Impala and tried to get a motel room to regroup. But none of their credit cards would work. It's happened from time-to-time and it's a hell of an inconvenience, but it's also why they carry a minimum of cash at all times.    
  
It was at this point that Dean had tried to call Cas while sitting in the car outside of the motel that they decided not to book with their cash. But Dean's phone had no service. A quick check of Sam's phone revealed the same problem. They couldn't make any calls. Dean had asked Sam if he had paid the phone bills and his brother had sworn up and down that he did.   
  
Fear crept in like a whisper, a hair-raising foreboding that hung on the fringe of Dean’s mind. But they were kinda focused on investigating why their body was missing and why the skinwalker they were hunting had vanished. They hadn't even thought about panicking about _something more_ being at play.  
  
They tossed those phones in the glove-box. They would deal with the phone company later. For the time, they had bought a couple of cheap pre-pay phones with some of their cash until they could solve the case. Figuring out the lack of phone service was the least of their concerns.  
  
As soon as the new phones were ready, Dean dialed Cas by memory. All he got was a rude beeping and then a message that said Cas' phone number was disconnected. Several retries, and rechecking that he was dialing right, and he was about ready to snap his phone in half in frustration. It just felt like one of those days where nothing was going right.  
  
They decided to just camp out in the Impala that night to save money because they weren’t ready to go home just yet. Something was going on and they needed to finish the job. The most obvious answer was that the coroner or police were hiding something and Dean was intent on figuring it out.

But when they woke the next morning and began to go over their notes, Sam dug out the old newspaper that they had brought from the bunker and made yet another startling discovery. The story that had led them to Arizona in the first place was magically replaced with an article about a local high school football team winning the state championship for the second year in a row.  
  
They dropped Arizona like a hot potato, hightailing it to where the bunker should be, where they're idling now. 

Dean starts the engine, pulling away and trying to keep his eyes forward. He doesn't want to glance in the rear-view mirror at the trees taking up the space where their home should be standing. As he drives away, he tells Sam about the portal.

"Well, it's plausible that that is the moment when we entered a new timeline or something," Sam says, raking his right hand through his hair. “I mean, stranger things have happened.”

“So what--was it some kind of freaky dimensional wormhole, a spell, an angel blast, or something new?” Dean asks. The freaky mirage is the first and only clue so they run with it, trying to think up every possible scenario.

After a lot of back-and-forth, Dean says, "This has Gabriel's stench all over it," screwing his face into a scowl.

"Yeah, but it's been a few days and nada. He likes to stick his nose in at some point to rub it in and teach us some lesson. I haven't seen anything that says this is him. Like, there haven’t been any pranks."  
  
“You don’t call useless phones and credit cards a prank? Cloaking the bunker? Getting rid of an entire person from the morgue?”  
  
Sam shrugs. “No, not really. That doesn’t really seem like his M.O.”

“Okay, if not him then maybe another angel. When else has one of those dicks pulled shit like this?" Dean snaps his fingers. "Balthazar. Remember that universe he and Cas zapped us to? Grab your computer.”

Sam twists his torso and leans into the backseat to grab it. Thanks to some hotspot doohickey Sam has on it, they can connect to WIFI, though the signal is patchy. Still, it's better than nothing and one of the few good things they've got going for them.  
  
“Battery's almost dead," Sam says. "What do you want me to look up?”

“Look up those actors, the fake you and fake me. They aren’t real in our world far as I know, so if we can find them then we know we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Sam shoots Dean a look. “Dude, really?”

Dean shrugs. “Look up Padaleski!”

“I think it’s Padalecki,” Sam mumbles, already hunching over the keys to type in the name.

When Sam finally gets the search results he looks over at Dean. “Looks like we’re far from home, Dean. Or should I say Jensen?” Sam says dryly, turning the screen toward him even though he’s driving. Dean glances over quickly and catches a glimpse of Jared Padalecki's smiling photo on an IMDB biography.

“Great,” Dean grouses. “Just friggin’ great. Which angel’s ass do you think we need to kick this time? 'Cause last I checked, most of the ones we know are dead.”   
  
He doesn't say it but there's at least one angel they do know pretty damn well that's alive. But there's no way in hell Cas would try to pull this stunt again without telling Dean. They've all learned far too well from past mistakes to repeat the past, for Cas to betray them again. Plus, Cas is like a drained battery lately. He couldn't have pulled it off, not solo. But it begs the question, if Cas did do something, then why? What would be his motivation? Things had finally settled down since Abbadon and the Mark of Cain were dealt with.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see Sam staring thoughtfully out his window. His brother doesn't mention Cas, either. Instead, Sam says, “All I know is that we’ve been living in the car with what little we have with us. We need to find a home-base and figure this out."  
  
"C'mon, seriously? If we're right about where we're at then we need to find a way outta here, not find a place to stay."   
  
"We'll get nowhere fast if we don't take care of us. Don't you think we both need a shower, beds, real food? ”

“Alright, fine,” Dean relents. He knows Sam is right but he's still frustrated about putting the brakes on figuring out what's going on for the time being. They've got work to do and every minute here is one less minute ganking that skinwalker. 

They decide to stay just outside of Lebanon. It's a small, quiet area that offers them privacy, especially as they now know that they're doppelgangers for television actors. 

“How you folk doin’?” the old keeper drawls when they step into the small lobby. The man's name tag reads _Henry_  
  
The first thing Dean notices is that the place is definitely dated and old enough to have been open when smoking in publicly-shared spaces was still legal. Or, maybe it's still legal in this world because the stale stench of cigarettes seems to cling to every porous surface. Still, it's so achingly familiar to so many motels they've visited throughout the years that Dean barely bats an eye.  
  
“So you boys needin’ a single or double?”

“Double,” the brothers say in unison.

Dean grumpily adds, "And we'll need the room for two weeks," while hoping it won't actually take that long. He pulls out several bills and takes what Sam hands him. "We'll pay in advance."

Between the two brothers, they have enough to pay for the motel but they’re going to need to rip off some cards soon, their combined cash dwindled down to only a few bucks.

Henry grins and trades them the cash for a single key, not even bothering with small talk to ask them if they're traveling for business or pleasure. Dean considers it a small miracle after the day from hell that they don't have to play twenty questions with a stranger.

After a much-needed shower, Dean falls face-first onto one of the beds. “So, do you think this world is a real place?" he asks, his voice muffled. "Like an alternate parallel universe, or whatever they’re called?” He's exhausted and even the lumpy bed feels heavenly compared to the tighter quarters of the Impala's front seat.

“As opposed to what, Dean? A fake place?”

“I don’t know, like a hallucination. Maybe none of this is even here. Maybe you’re not really here,” he mumbles sleepily, his eyes closed.

He can hear Sam step out of the bathroom and stride right up to the bed, and Dean definitely feels the fist that lands hard on his shoulder.

“What the hell,” Dean shouts, lifting his head to glare at Sam.

“You tell me,” Sam says, the twitch of a small smile threatening to emerge. “Did that feel real?”

Dean scrambles to his feet and Sam laughs, putting up his hands in self-defense. Dean manages to punch Sam’s shoulder right back but Sam gets him into a headlock. It takes a few moments for Sam to drag both of them to the ground in a very amateur wrestling match.

“Say uncle,” Sam orders through gritted teeth, his arm tightening around Dean's neck. “You may be older but I’m bigger and stronger.”

“Never,” Dean grunts, fighting to get out of the hold.

“Just give up, Dean!”  
  
Dean finally gives up, half out of exhaustion and half out of not being in the mood to play around. He huffs and straightens his shirt as he gets to his feet. “I let you win,” he says haughtily.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, sure you did,” Sam says, grabbing his duffel bag to find his toiletries.  
  
The physical exertion did help to release a bit of tension but now comes the daunting task of trying to figure out _how_ to figure out how to get back home.

+++

The brothers spend the next two weeks trying to find anything that they can use. The very first thing that Dean does after getting a few hours of sleep is to drive back down to Arizona to try and find the portal. Sam stays behind to begin gathering clues and research. The same Arizona highway they had traveled, of course, turns up empty. No portal anywhere to report, so Dean returns to Kansas.  
  
Their motel room is overcome with every occult and mythology book from the library. The Internet, library archives, and newspapers all prove to be dead ends and it looks like werewolves, vampires, and even ghosts are nothing more than scary campfire stories.   
  
Even the lore and spells that they do find are crapshoots. They try several simple spells that won't kill anybody or turn either of them into toads, including a couple of summoning spells that they know by heart. But there's no results.  
  
Their latest effort in feeling out the supernatural was when they walked around the nearest cemetery with the EMF detector. They didn't get a single hit. As far as Sam and Dean can tell, there's nothing supernatural running amuck in this world.  
  
As for trying to locate other hunters for information and help? The brothers continue trying to track someone--anyone--down but they come up empty. Gabriel hasn't popped in to say, "Tada," and Cas hasn't shown up to pull them back out with some excuse about protecting them.  
  
“Sammy, I’m going nuts here. We have nothing," Dean says, sitting down hard on the edge of his bed, tossing the book he had been reading behind him.

Sam sits down across from him on the edge of his own bed and quietly states, “Dean, I think we need to face the reality of the situation. I think we’re stuck here.”

Dean doesn't agree right away but the thought has crossed his mind. To hear Sam, brainiac and researcher extraordinaire, finally utter the words makes it seem too final, though. He rubs a hand over his jaw and then across the back of his neck.  
  
“I thought I wanted out of the hunter's life," Dean replies after a stretch of silence. "I thought I’d be happier if I had a choice between hunting and settling down. But now--" Dean presses his lips together and shakes his head, "I've lost my best friend.” Dean swallows and drops his eyes to the burnt orange carpet. “And hunting… it’s what I do and now that that is gone..." his voice trails off.

Sam sighs. “I know, man. But all we’re doing is drawing blanks. I don’t even know how we can open a portal. And then how would we find the right universe? Look, maybe Cas and some others are on the other end trying to help solve this," he offers to try to reassure Dean. "They have magic and spells and grace. Maybe,” Sam hesitates. “Maybe we should try to focus on building our lives here until someone pops us free.”

“What do you mean by building our lives? What are you sayin’?”  
  
“Well, for starters, we can’t live in a motel indefinitely. What if we’re here for a month? A year?”  
  
Dean scoffs and gets to his feet. “No, we can’t be here a year. Someone will come before then.”  
  
“And what if they don’t? We can’t just sit here twiddling our thumbs. There’s nothing to hunt to kill the time, there’s no bunker to live in. We need a semi-permanent place that isn't a shady motel. We need jobs, something to do.”

Dean just shakes his head, eyes locked onto a stain on the wall across the room, his hope ebbing away. For a long time neither brother says anything. Finally Sam stands, pats Dean on the back, and leaves the room to probably take a walk. Alone in the depressingly dark room, Dean hangs his head and prays to Cas for about the hundredth time.  
  
+++

No monsters hiding in the shadows. No more life-and-death responsibility every time he heads out the door. No more crap motels and living out of a duffel bag.  
  
Dean is well aware that Sam can work on fulfilling his dreams without the pressure to continue the family business. Nothing has to hold Sam back here. No angel, no demon, no other monstrosity threatening an apocalypse, and not even Dean.

But that doesn’t mean Dean is happy about it. In fact, Dean is outright resistant, dragging his feet almost every step of the way. His little brother isn't gonna need him anymore.  
  
When Sam pops open his laptop--and thank whatever deity that the charger had been in his bag--and begins looking up the nearest college that offers courses in classical studies, Dean tries to ignore him until he can't stand it anymore.  
  
“What even is that?” Dean asks after overhearing Sam muttering to himself under his breath. He takes the seat across from Sam at the table in their room. "Classical studies sounds like some fancy learning about Beethoven or whatever."  
  
“Well, Dean,” Sam says in his best patronizing voice, “it is an extension of what we do. I mean, did.” Sam clears his throat and gestures to the computer. “Classical studies covers everything from archaeology and religion, and to mythology and language--”  
  
“Then why go to college for that?" Dean interrupts. "You probably already know more than the professors that teach it.” Dean scoffs at Sam over the back of the laptop. “Hell, you’ve met actual gods and goddesses.”  
  
“That may be true,” Sam says slowly, “but we’re in a different universe. The lore may not be exactly the same as back home. In fact, I’d bet on it.”  
  
“Well, I ain’t in the betting mood,” Dean grumbles.  
  
“Look,” Sam sighs, “I get in to the school and I can get deep into studying it. Maybe this is the way to find a ticket home. Or,” Sam hesitates, “if we’re stuck here, then at least I can have a start at a career and a life.”  
  
Dean clenches his jaw and snaps open the newspaper that he nabbed from the motel lobby when the manager wasn’t looking. He’s looking for a job in Lebanon because he doesn’t want to go to school for some temporary life. Who even does that? Apparently his own kid brother does.

“We’re going to have to get some IDs and falsify some records.” Sam starts listing off all the specifics, “Social security cards, birth certificates, high school transcripts, driver’s licenses, resumes, former jobs--the whole nine.”  
  
“Yeah, and where do we find someone to help with that?” Dean asks, lowering his paper. “We have no network here. We know nobody.”  
  
“Looks like we’re gonna have to figure it out for ourselves and to protect our anonymity. Finding someone to help us in a small place like this and gossip would spread like wildfire.”  
  
“Anonymity? Dude, we look just like those guys on that Supernatural show.”   
  
A show which Dean refuses to watch, by the way. It's too weird to see some clone pretending to be him and someone else pretending to be Sam. Not to mention seeing the actor that looked exactly like Cas. Dean's heart does a funny flop and he focuses harder on the classifieds, glaring at the small black print.   
  
"Didn't that get canceled?" Sam asks after a moment.  
  
"Uh, yeah. After Virgil killed that Misha guy. Looks like they tried to keep the murder out of the headlines and ended the series all quiet-like."  
  
Across the table, Sam raises a brow but he doesn't harass Dean on how he knows all of that. Dean presses his lips together, refusing to give into the temptation to defend himself for snooping around. But if he were going to speak up, Dean would just say it's responsible to know where their counterparts are at and what they're doing. Sam couldn't argue with that.  
  
“Well," Sam goes back to clacking away on his laptop, "you can thank Charlie for teaching me a thing or two. I think I can get us what we need but it'll take some time."  
  
Dean nods. "I'll find us some cash and cards." They're gonna need to keep the room a couple more weeks at least.

+++  
  
After everything is squared away, Dean builds a fake resume and Sam helps him to look online for a job.  
  
“What about a parks-and-rec job? You could be a park ranger.” Sam squints at whatever he's reading on the computer screen.  
  
“I said I’m not going to school, Sam,” Dean says, leaning over Sam's shoulder to point out the education requirements on the online application page. “I need to work now. If I have to be a damn janitor at the local high school then I will. A job is a job.”  
  
“Dean, you’re smart,” Sam argues and Dean snorts in disbelief. “Seriously, you can learn whatever you need to, and you’ll do a damn better job than anyone. Just look over the stuff you’ll need to learn for the job.” Sam’s fingers clack wildly over his keyboard keys as he begins to fill out the application fields. “This sounds like it’d be perfect for you. Better than scrubbing Sharpie off toilet stalls and spit-wads off of ceilings.”

Dean grunts noncommittally and settles back into his seat. The work sounds like it’d be mostly private, he’ll be out in nature, and there are opportunities to hunt wild game and to fish. He’ll get to be in a position of authority. And, most importantly, wear a cool hat.

The only catch is that only current job available in the area is in Milford, outside of Junction City, and Sam is wanting to head to the University of Kansas in Lawrence.

“It’s less than two hours away,” Sam asserts as he finishes the application for Dean that Dean hadn't actually agreed to yet.

“That just brings up a new problem, Sam. You don’t have wheels. You don’t have money for a car or for tuition.”  
  
“I can get a part-time job and save up for a car. And there’s financial aid and scholarships. If schools are anything like back home, then there are grants for people whose parents are both deceased.” Sam looks up from his computer and grins. “Where there is a will, there is a way.”

“So, what’re you gonna drive? Where’re you gonna live?”

“Until I can get a car," Sam shrugs, "I'll just have to take the bus. And they do have housing at K.U., Dean." 

“I know you’re gettin’ annoyed by all the questions," Dean points out, "but it’s my job to look out for you.”

“Yeah, when we were kids . But that wasn’t actually ever supposed to be your job." Sam sighs deeply. "Look, we’ve gone our separate ways before and have been fine. At least we’ll be somewhat close and it’s not like we’re parting on bad terms. Right?”

Dean looks into his brother’s imploring eyes and sighs. He can see just how bad Sam wants this and he can't fight his brother on it anymore. “Right. You deserve this,” he admits. “I’m just being your annoyingly overprotective big brother. Twerp.”

Sam visibly relaxes and affectionately rolls his eyes at the nickname before going back to his computer to use some of Charlie’s good ol’ hacking techniques to get himself enrolled and into K.U. housing, easily slipping in through the cracks.  
  
Dean ends up getting the job at Milford State Park. And with the town's population at just over five hundred, finding an available apartment is easy, his landlord more than happy to have another tenant helping to pay the utility bills.  
  
Sam camps out with him in the bare apartment for a week until it's time to drive up to K.U. with a single duffel bag of Sam's few belongings and some cash that they made hustling pool in their spare time.  
  
The drive back to Milford afterward is lonely and quiet, even with Radiohead cranked up because nothing can soothe the heavy weight that has settled within Dean’s heart over losing his home, his lifestyle, his best friend. And now, even his brother is just out of reach.


End file.
